


Business As Usual

by misura



Category: Sneakers (1992)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wizards, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Which was to say: trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Business As Usual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveparade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveparade/gifts).



> so I saw that one of your other prompts was for The Dresden Files, and then this happened.
> 
> (just to say: it's entirely your own fault.)

“I knew you were trouble from the moment you walked into my office,” Martin said, dodging another lightning bolt. It was a pity they'd sent Carl out on a pizza run, really; the kid could have learned something. Or gotten burnt to a crisp, of course; there was that.

Liz scowled at him. “It wasn't much of an office.” Implying, possibly, that it's inhabitant hadn't proven to be much of a wizard either, thus far, although that might just be his imagination.

“Well, it's even less of one now, isn't it?” Another thing to regret: he was fairly sure he'd neglected to pay the insurance for the last, say, three years or so. “You got any place safe we can go?”

“No,” she said, but she'd given him her card the first time, and it had had an address on it.

“You want to take down the Italians, you're going to have to be willing to get your hands dirty, Miss,” he said. “Or at least the floors and dishes in your very nice apartment.”

In that neighborhood, there were probably wards on the air conditioning - to say nothing of bulletproof windows, not that guns were a particular concern of Martin's right now.

“Fine,” she said. “And Mr Bishop?”

“Yes?”

“I knew _you_ were trouble, too, from the moment I walked into your office.”

He grinned at her, then decided now was not the time to flirt with a dame, especially not one he suspected was going to end up shooting him in the back, sooner or later.

“Gotcha,” he said. “On the count of three, let's make a run for my car over there, shall we?”


End file.
